Birth Scene
by Jenna-Jayen
Summary: This story can, literally, be applied to almost any birth scene in any book ever written. In this short story I wanted to tell the story of birth from the point of view of the baby as it experiences the contractions of labour and is born and enters the world as a being separate from the mother-baby diad. A one off short story. Any mistakes are my own.


**** Authors note: I have not written anything worth publishing in a very long time, and to be completely honest, now that I am in my early 30's and have the maturity, knowledge and the ability to remain detached from my emotions as I go back and read through my teenage attempts at storytelling I really don't know why, back then, that I ever thought they were suitable for publication! They would need a heck of a lot of work now to get them up to scratch for public consumption, but I really can't be bothered doing that and will just leave them there as proof of where I began, and of how far I have come in the last 10-15 years.  
In defence of my teenage self: as a teenager I was a hopeless romantic who spent more time writing fiction than I did at anything else and used it to help me get through some dark bouts of depression and the resulting suicidal thoughts caused by severe depression, and, as I thought back then, "to hell with not adding my own personal touches", they helped make my stories unique to my own style though I do know that others didn't appreciate my little personal "additions" at the time since those attempts at story writing were based on books written by some amazing authors, who I greatly respect and love, and I wasn't staying true to the canon (yes, I am guilty of having done that).

This story below is something that I wrote back in late July 2017, just a couple of days after a long and particularly emotional day of work in my chosen profession (pregnancy and birth support), witnessing as another beautiful little soul entered this world.  
In this short story I wanted to tell the story of birth from the point of view of the baby as it is squashed and squeezed by the uterine contractions during active labour, as it makes its way through the birth canal during the second stage of labour and enters into this bright, harsh and cold world that is so very different from the dark, comforting warmth of the world within the womb.  
I think, from my point of view at least, that I have succeeded and I hope that others will enjoy reading this short story just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Any mistakes in spelling and grammar are my own and probably a result of inattention due to lack of adequate sleep and nowhere near enough coffee, if that isn't the cause then it's plainly just my own darn fault and I'll get around to fixing it one day when I have enough spare time to go back through it properly (likely to be only when I have been provided with enough coffee - and possibly also wine, my favourite wine is white Moscato by the way - to leave me bouncing off the walls and ceiling!)

Warmest regards, Jenna - Aspiring Author & Birth Doula ****

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Darkness. No discernible light. Thick viscous fluid all around. Floating.

Muffled, strange distant sounds come from all around outside the darkness, and the more familiar rumbling sound that it has always heard since the moment it could first hear and was aware. A rhythmic comforting thump-thump thump-thump sound above, or maybe it's below, maybe it isn't even a sound, merely a vibration. There's no real direction, no up or down, within the darkness.

The darkness is a prison growing smaller, ever so smaller. Where once movement could be made easily, freely, all over the place, now there's barely enough room to move a limb. And the tightening, like a band all around making the prison smaller for a time before releasing it, the tightening's have been getting closer, lasting longer. They make the small creature within the fluid feel afraid.

A movement, sounding like a muffled swishing within the fluid, moving a limb up and out, exploring the smaller boundaries of the prison and the band tightens again, only this time all over not just around. It tightens, tightens, it's getting so tight the small flailing creature within the fluid fears and begins to panic. The creature tries to cry out in fear but there's no sound, there never is. It stays tight for so long the tiny creature almost despairs of it ever going away. That one hurt, hurt all over, being gripped so tightly that it couldn't even move its limbs though it tried to do so.

There's a muffled POP and the viscous fluid starts to drain away, from above the creatures head, or maybe it is below? It doesn't know with no knowledge of directions, the band is still there though it is starting to loosen and the creature is being pulled along with the fluid. Its head brushes the smooth walls of the prison, settles within the smooth grip and for a time just rests there.

The tightening starts to build up again and the creature thrashes its head from side to side, the smooth prison walls are tight around its head, it doesn't like the feeling, it hurts, it presses, the creature can't move properly, and the tightening is pressing it up, down, whichever way it is, deeper and tighter. Its shoulders are now squashed, arms stuck to its sides, it kicks its lower limbs, the only part still free to move but this only pushes it deeper still.

Something cold touches the very top of the creatures head, there is something cold moving across its head and it tries to push itself back inside the warm prison but it can't, the pressure is too much and it is still moving. The cold area grows bigger, the creature is scared, afraid, doesn't want this, doesn't like this, wants to be back where it's warm and somewhat comfortable even though there isn't much room anymore, where there isn't any cold.

A sudden strong movement and the creatures head is no longer surrounded by the tight prison, there's brightness all around and that scares the creature even more, the tightness is now around the creatures neck, shoulders, arms, body... the creature is pinned and the light is too bright, it can't move, and the roaring sound all around! The panic intensifies.

The creatures body is still moving though, the neck is coming out, the head is rotating as first one shoulder, and then the second emerge and the rest of the creatures body slips out, no longer imprisoned, into the coldness and the awful brightness and that loud, so very loud, sound. There isn't any comforting thump-thump thump-thump anymore, only the rough, though warm, hands holding it, lifting it and wrapping the creature in something even more rough and slightly hurtful as it rubs on the creatures sensitive skin.

The creature opens its mouth to cry out at the roughness and fluid bubbles out and down its tiny chin, warm just like the prison. It inhales and breathes in its first taste of air.

It hurts! It hurts to inhale that strange insubstantial substance, so different from the viscous fluid it had known, it hurts as the substance, the air, moves into the creatures lungs and sets off a chemical and physical chain reaction within the tiny body – the ducts that kept it alive and growing within the fluid prison start to close and the oxygen within the air starts to be transferred to the blood - and the panic rises even more as the creature gasps and draws in more air, and exhales in a tiny weak whimper expressing the pain it feels within.

There is more of the loud noise above it, a rumbling rhythmic sound, similar to the sounds it heard within the prison but much louder, so loud that it hurts the creatures ears. It whimpers again, louder this time and it takes greater gasps of air and flails its limbs against the rough surface surrounding it, then opens its tiny eyes and looks up at a dark blurry shadow silhouetted against the bright light, it closes them quickly, the light is too bright and hurts just like everything else.

The loud familiar rumbling sound comes again and the creature feels itself being moved and placed against a warm, giving, surface. The creature turns its head towards the warm surface and smells something tantalising, something warm and familiar and comforting, it hears, or maybe feels, very faintly the familiar thump-thump thump-thump underneath the warm surface and the panic begins to subside and the whimpers to slow and fade. It is getting easier to breath, less painful, and the tiny creature is finding its own rhythm with each new breath it takes.

It opens its eyes a little bit, to look at the warm surface and sees another blurry face above, a face that it instinctively knows is comfort and warmth, security and safety. It opens its mouth in a yawn, it is sleepy after the fear and panic and the scary tightenings but also curious about this new, colder place. The loud rumbling sound comes from the blurry face above, the comforting sounds from its prison though much louder than it is used to, and the creature is shifted so that the tantalising smell is closer, right in front of it, under its nose.

Something warm touches and cups the back of the creatures tiny head and pushes it closer to the smell, something firm touches the little mouth which instinctively opens wide as the firm thing is pushed against it. The creatures mouth closes around that firm thing and some instinct deep inside tells it to suck, just like it did with its limbs within the prison, so the creature sucks and it tastes the first wondrous drops of that tantalising smell and sucks again, stronger now, wanting more to fill the hunger within that it didn't know was there until this moment.

The creature sucks for as long as it can, taking as much as it can, feels the firm thing being removed and itself being shifted, turned, and lets out a small whimper of displeasure that is cut off quickly as another firm thing with that wonderful fluid welling from it is put into the tiny mouth and the sucking begins again until finally, sated and exhausted, the tiny creature falls asleep upon the safe warm surface that has the wondrous warm liquid that takes away the strange new feeling of hunger from within.

Dimly, as it drifts off to sleep, it hears the familiar rumbling sound again and makes out one of the sounds, a word, the tiny creatures name though it does not understand what it means right then.

Sleep overcomes the creature and it knows nothing more until a later time when it awakens again with that strange new hunger that must be sated before it can sleep once again, and again, and again.


End file.
